I’ve been awake since 2:22AM …
and while it’s not optimal, it’s okay. I suppose that’s one benefit of the life I’m designing for myself—I leave room for the ebbs and flows of my energy.
What woke me up was the body heat generated by 100 pounds of dog I accidentally let fall asleep alongside me. What’s kept me awake unfortunately isn’t as cute.
After putting them back into their doggie caves, I crawled back under the covers ready to get back to my dreams—no luck. My tossing and turning continued. The left-side of my brain was up and at ‘em throwing me business ideas and building to-do lists. With no journal in reach, I grabbed my phone only long enough to “pen” a voice memo and spew it all out.
With my thoughts diffused, I got comfy, took a few deep breaths, and was confident sleep was right around the corner. Wrong again.
This time instead of thoughts—a pit in my stomach, and chills up and down my spine. “Okay, so here’s anxiety”, I thought as I got up and cracked the window, my bed suddenly too hot. I readjusted myself again, accepting that the rest of the night might be rocky and closed my eyes.
Then the memories started and suddenly my body and mind were right back to familiar feelings hyper-vigilant, heartbroken, on edge. All part of the tangled cocktail of experiences I had as I helped my non-verbal mom stand and scrawl thank-yous’ to show people at my dad’s wake. I didn’t fight these images—these sensations. I let them be, because as real as they felt, I’m still anchored in 2023.
“It’s the first week in December, I wonder if…”, my body gave me breadcrumbs to work with that I couldn’t ignore. After a quick Google to locate my dad’s obituary and a scroll through my Google Calendar my suspicions were confirmed—December 7th is the day we buried my dad—two years ago, somehow. Suddenly the pockets of grief and tension I’ve been holding in my body all week made sense.
With the dots connected, I did what I do best when I need to process—I wrote about it. Now it’s 5:25AM and while it looks like a solid night of sleep isn’t a choice for me anymore, I’m thankful for my body. Now I know I need to sprinkle in some more TLC for myself the next few days.
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Take sweet, gentle care Maggie ❤️❤️
Maggie, It is interesting what the body remembers while the mind kept hidden. Your love for your dad is a testament as to the man he was. I am sorry for your loss. D